Buzz...
In the next moment, the Pure Yang Magic Sword soared through the air, landing in Chu Chaoran's grasp.
Rumble...
An exquisite aura was born leisurely, ascending to the sky, suppressing the earth's depths, and suddenly the Pure Yang Magic Sword quieted down, with only a low hum echoing, akin to a mountain breeze whining.
"Master, what just happened?" Taoist Pojie recovered his senses, his eyes filled with suspicion and uncertainty.
"Either a formidable enemy or an old friend." Chu Chaoran looked at the Pure Yang Magic Sword in his hand and uttered an enigmatic phrase.
"Hmm!?"
Taoist Pojie and the little Daoist looked at each other, puzzled.
"Hang it back up."
At this moment, Chu Chaoran casually tossed the Pure Yang Magic Sword to Taoist Pojie.
Taoist Pojie was taken aback, quickly catching it. That seemingly unremarkable wooden sword felt as heavy as a thousand pounds in his hand, filling him with immense fear and unease.
